


i'll stay as long as you need

by hanzios



Series: mackson missing scenes [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: He killed a man, and it didn’t matter if he was innocent or guilty of the crimes Emori had accused him. It was a life all the same, and Jackson – someone who promised to first, do no harm – killed him.OR: Jackson expresses guilt after Baylis' death
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Series: mackson missing scenes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026889
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	i'll stay as long as you need

_it’s okay if you can’t catch your breath  
you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest  
_ **  
_– two by sleeping at last_ **

+

Jackson collapses on the bed with a heavy thud, curling up into a ball at the edge. He doesn’t bother to kick off his shoes, nor does he open the lights in the room. His eyes feel too big for his face, tears threatening to come at large waves if he doesn’t control his rapid breathing.

The face of that man – bursting with nasty lesions and dark, oozing blood – appears behind his eyelids when he blinks, so he tries not to, instead focusing on the shadows of a chair in front of him. He has never seen something so gruesome in his life, something so morbid he couldn’t help but choke back tears as he recalls the man’s piercing cries of help.

And the fact that it was _Jackson_ who caused that to happen.

 _He_ injected Baylis with Nightblood.

 _He_ strapped him into that death chamber.

 _He_ turned on the machine.

 _He_ increased radiation levels.

He killed a man, and it didn’t matter if he was innocent or guilty of the crimes Emori had accused him. It was a life all the same, and Jackson – someone who promised to _first, do no harm_ – killed him.

Despite his erratic thoughts, he could hear the sounds of heavy boots stomping through the hallways, reaching his door. He knows it’s Nate before the soldier even opens the door. It’s funny how familiar he’s grown to the man’s footsteps after mere days of having him come to his room in the dead of night.

The door creaks slightly when Miller opens it, the orange light of the hallway washing half of the bedroom. Jackson doesn’t look at him; he can’t move his body that’s drowned with guilt.

Finally, Miller closes the door, locks it. Jackson could feel the mattress shifting behind him, the atmosphere thick with nothing but their steady breaths and words none of them are brave enough to say.

Jackson feels the weight of Miller’s hand on his upper arm, his body supported by an elbow on the mattress. Miller watches Jackson through the dark, his presence alone comforting.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Jackson swallows, hard. “Sure feels like it.” His voice feels like sandpaper, words trying to claw out of his swollen throat.

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Miller’s voice is gentle yet persistent. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to kill someone with your bare hands. That wasn’t the same thing.”

Jackson exhales shakily, turning his body slightly so he’s looking at Miller. The man’s face is blurry against his clouded vision, and he’s _so close_ to letting it all out, but a part of him doesn’t want Miller to see him so vulnerable, so _broken._

“What I did was worse than anything you’ve done,” Jackson shudders. “I didn’t just kill him, Nate. I _tortured_ him.” He moves back to his previous position, hugging his body to keep himself from falling apart at the seams.

 _“Jackson,”_ Miller breathes. He feels Miller’s strong arms enclosing him in a warm embrace, the soldier’s heat radiating through Jackson’s back. Miller reaches for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

They’ve shared nothing more than yearning glances, fleeting touches, and heavy conversations deep in the night. When Miller stumbles into Jackson’s room, all he seeks is companionship; nothing more. Jackson is more than willing to give that to him, because despite _whatever the hell this is_ between them, Miller makes him feel something other than the loneliness constantly creeping in his chest.

Within a week, they’ve done plenty together.

But not like _this._

Jackson isn’t ready to show Miller pieces of himself he’s been trying to hide for so long. A large part of him is afraid that he’ll ruin this intimate bond between them and lose the only thing that’s keeping him sane right now.

“I got you,” Miller whispers against the back of Jackson’s neck, his breath hot against his skin. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

The proposition would sound sexual if it weren’t for the tone of the conversation. Jackson chokes down a sob at the sincerity in Miller’s voice, chest bursting with affection for the man who was nothing more than another face just a week ago.

Jackson could feel the tears finally falling down the side of his face, his shoulders trembling.

“Stay,” he whispers like a ghost, voice cracking in desperation.

Miller only pulls him closer. “As long as you need.”

Jackson may not be able to wash away the vile memory of his grievous sin any time soon. He fears that it might crawl up his shoulders and take shelter in his brain for as long as he lives. But somehow, it feels as if everything will be okay when he has Miller’s body pressed up against him, holding him tight without signs of letting go.


End file.
